


New Girl

by applesmokedgouda



Series: Being Bo [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:46:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applesmokedgouda/pseuds/applesmokedgouda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys end up in a backwater town investigating a case, where they meet someone who might already have things covered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Girl

"So, what? Djinn, demons? A new werewolf clan? What do you think, Dean?" The taller man asked, referencing the man sitting across from him in the run-down small town diner.

"Dude, I don't even care. All I know is that this pie is frickin' amazing." His partner replied, nearly licking his plate clean.

"Well, I'm glad you think so, darlin'!" A sweet-looking waitress who's uniform matched the dingy red and white walls of the establishment drawled in a cute Southern accent. "I made it myself! Can I get you boys anything else?"

"Well, I'd like another slice of pie, but I'd love a sweet slice of you!" Dean said with a wink and a smile that would have melted any girl's pants off. The taller man glared at his partner; evidently flirting with waitresses was something he did often.

"Oh, aren't you sweet." The waitress said with a smile and a noncommittal hand gesture. "I'll get you that pie, and be back in a jiffy! Anything for you, hon? Some more coffee?"  
The taller man nodded with a shy smile. Once the waitress had turned around, his hand connected with Dean's shoulder.

"Sammy! Dude! What the hell?"

"We're here on a case, Dean. We're not here for you to flirt with the waitress." Sam pulled out his laptop, but couldn't get a signal in the diner.

The waitress returned. "Here y'are." Then, noticing Sam's laptop, she smiled and said, "Well, you boys must be new! There ain't no internet connection anywhere in this town. Everyone knows that."

As she poured him a new cup of coffee, Sam looked at Dean with a gaze full of longing. "No wi-fi..." He whispered.

"Listen, I know you boys are new here in town, and y'all are dressed fancy in your suits and whatnot; but take my advice. Leave while you can. Weird stuff's been going on lately. Folks goin' missin'. Police still haven't found my Pa. Town small's this'un, everybody knows ever'body, and every few days, someone just - poof! disappears."

"Well, Miss..." Sam began.

"Dennis. Franny Dennis."

"That's actually the reason we're here."

"Oh, my! You must be some big, important, gov'ment boys, hmm?" She asked.

"Agents Stark and Banner, FBI." Dean said with a quick grin and a flash of his badge. "We'd love to talk to you; maybe hear a little more about your dad and the rest of those missing people?"

"Well, hon, I get off in an hour. You boys staying at the Icy Cheif Inn? If not, you should. It's our nicest place for out-of-towners. Wha'ddya say I meet you boys at the pub up the road? It's the only bar for miles; and while they don't have the top shelf stuff, the beer's cold, and that's all that matters." She smiled.

"Thank you, Miss Dennis. We'll meet you there."

"Pleasure's all mine, Agent Banner. Oh, and don't pay no mind to the name; sometimes it scares some folks off. Dunno why. But really, The Manticore's a nice pub. Oh! If that's all for you boys, I'll bring the check on by."

"Thanks, Miss Dennis."

"Oh, Agent Stark, it's no big deal. And please, call me Franny."

*****

Franny Dennis waited until the "Agents" left the diner. Then, she went into action. She walked into the break room, found her boss, and told him she was heading home, claiming she was feeling ill, and needed to get some "shut eye." Frank Dennis was very understanding of his cousin.

Hell, he hadn't seen her in years. When Franny was about fourteen or fifteen, she skipped out with the first trouble-makin' son-of-a-bitch that came to town after her parents died. She was on the police force or something now; Frank wasn't exactly sure what. She came back once, when Frank had called her and told her that more people had died, just like her parents. She was eighteen then, and, to help her out a little while she was investigating, Frank let her work at the diner.  
She left, and then, folks stopped dyin'. Frank didn't know what she did, and he didn't care. As long as people were safe, he was happy. But now, people were disappearing. Frequently. He called his cousin, informed her, and she was there within the day. She'd been here two days, and while she wasn't out doing - well, whatever it was that she did, she worked at the diner again.

Franny let her dark auburn locks spill out of the tight bun she kept for work, only to be scooped up once again and tucked under a helmet. She slipped on her leather riding jacket, hopped on her bike, and drove to her room at the Icy Chief to change.

*****

Franny was ecstatic to be out of that uniform. Now, she was clad in a black v-neck that showed just a hint of what she had cleavage-wise, her leather jacket, jeans, and a pair of boots, she rode to the Manticore to speak to the agents. When she pulled up, a nice old car pulled up next to her. She pulled her helmet off, and the agents got out of their car.  
"Ah, I see you boys found the place alright." She smiled at them. "C'mon, it's gonna be quiet tonight. Nobody really feels like celebrating lately." The trio walked in, and Franny led them to a small table in a back corner. "I got this round, boys. Mike's been boozin' me up since I was 15. He's like a cool older brother. And, when I get back, you can tell me what you have so far on this case, and I can tell you that you need better fake names for your I.D.'s."

The men were flabbergasted. Not only had Franny lost her innocent, country-girl demeanor, she had also lost her accent. She was dressed casually, yet practically. Franny returned with three beers, as promised. The bar had some music playing in the background, and a few people playing pool, but in their little corner, nobody even noticed the trio of hunters.

*****(A few brewskis later)*****

"All right, all right. Nobody's telling the truth here. I'll start." Franny settled what was sure to turn into a big argument. "I was born here. Raised here. God-fearing, church-going family. Only child. Name's Francis Dennis; everyone here calls me Franny. But, Christ, do I hate that name. Whenever I'm out of town, which is usually, I go by Bo.

"When I was fourteen, a demon possessed the local drunk, Crazy Tom. Killed my parents and tried to kill me. A hunter got word, and arrived three days after I had iced the thing. I had no idea what I was doing. Brought it into the back room of our church; where we used to store the holy water, and I, well, gave him an impromptu baptism. Head under the water, shouting an exorcism chant as loud as I could. When the hunter came, Steve, I told him everything, and he sorta took me under his wing.

"Everyone in town thought I had just run off with some bad boy, and I guess they're sorta right, but he was a good guy. Until, well, I had to kill him. Vamp got him, turned him. It was rough." She took a sip of her beer and paused. She blinked a bit, then excused herself.

"Mike, gimme four shots of the hardest stuff you got." She knocked them back with ease, then returned to the table. "Sorry 'bout that. Touchy subject. My parents. Steve. Needed a shot to dull the pain."

"Looked more like four to me."

"Dean!" The taller man chastised.

"Ah, so you're Dean." Franny/Bo drawled, the alcohol getting into her system. "I told you part of my story, so tell me part of yours!"

"Franny, I don't think that's a good--"

"Don't you call me Franny!" The boys stared at her. "Sorry. I'll finish. After, oh, where was I? Oh. Steve. Yeah. Been a solo hunter ever since. Honestly, 'm surprised 'm not dead yet. Anyway, my cousin Frank owns the diner, lets me work there when 'm in town for a case. When I was eighteen, I gave him a call to, you know, let him know I wasn't dead. He told me Crazy Tom had started killin' folk, and they were gonna lock 'im up. Couldn't have that.

"Came back here, exorcised a demon outta him again, left town. Frank's had my direct line ever since. Just in case. Then, three days ago, he calls me up again and says somethin' funny's goin' on. I come down to investigate, meantimes I'm workin' down at the diner, then you two show up.

"I knew youse were hunners right away, di' I tell you that? You're sittin' in a diner talkin' 'bout djinn, an' deamons, an' werewolves. Loudly. People'd think you're insane. Oh, and 'Agents Stark and Banner?' Really guys? Really?

"So yeah. That's my story. And I can tell you right now, it ain't none'a those things. This is somethin' new; somethin'... weird." She finished her story.

"Well, kid, why don't you go home. We've got this case; don't you worry your pretty little head about it." Dean said offhandedly.

"You listen to me. This town may not be where I live, but it sure as hell will always be my home. I'm not leaving until this is sorted. I know people in this town, grew up with them, you know? They mean something to me. Look, I can help. You may not want me, but I can help." She drained the rest of her beer and rose to grab another.

"Dean..."

"Don't start with me, Sammy!"

"You know that wasn't cool."

"I know. But she's cute when she's upset."

"Dean, really?"

"What?"

"We just heard her life story, starting with how she was orphaned at fourteen. Now is not the time to remark on her appearance."

"All right, all right. Chill out, man." A beer was placed in front of each man. "We'll help."

"Good. Now, make with your sides of the story. Also, Rapunzel, you might want to get a haircut. Some people might recognize that your cut isn't exactly FBI standard."

Sam blushed slightly. "It's Sam, actually. Sam Winchester. My brother, Dean." He motioned over to Dean, who raised his beer in greeting.

"Oh-oh my God. Seriously?" She laughed. "Like, like seriously, seriously? You're the Winchesters? Like the Winchester Winchesters?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"Nothing. I just... I just thought you guys would be a little more... impressive, is all."

"So, I take it you know our story, then?" Sam asked.

"Well, there's always been rumors. Demon blood. Starting the great battle between Michael and Lucifer. Oh, and you, bright eyes," motioning to Dean, "You're sleeping with an angel or something, right?"

"We're not sleeping together." Dean huffed.

"Oh my God, this is great. This is so great. You try and pass me off as some rookie hunter who has no idea what she's doing; and look at the pair of you! You're the freakin' Winchesters, dude! And you-- you're! I don't even! WHAT?!"

A few heads turned their way. "Sorry. 'M drunker'n I thought. I get loud."

"So, what do you know about the case?" Sam prompted, trying to get her back on topic.

"You know... You're tall. You're really, really tall. And I'm gonna get another shot. Or six." She simply stated.

She wobbled slightly as she made her way to the bar, whereupon Mike asked for her keys.  
"Miiiiiiiiiiike!" She whined. "I'm fine. Watch. Finger to nose, finger to nose, finger to nose." She did the motions, yet her eyes were open.

"Keys. You're drunk."

"Fine." She huffed, fishing them out of her back pocket.

"Franny."

"What, Mike?"

"Your real keys. I watched you get brought into this world; I know your tricks."

"Miiiike. Mikey. I'm sober. I can handle my bike. Z, Y, X, W, V, U, T, S, R, Q, P, O, N, M, L, K, J, I, H, G, F, E, D, C, B, A! See!"

"Girl, I taught you how to sing the ABC's backwards when you were twelve."

She sighed. "All right, here." Fishing out another set of keys from her pocket, she handed them to the bartender. In exchange, he gave her the decoy keys and another beer.

"So, what do we call you?" Sam asked when she returned.

"In front of people in this town, Franny. When we're alone, or anywhere but here, Bo."

"Alright, Bo. So how do you intend on getting home tonight?" Dean asked.

"On my bike." She flashed her keys at the boys. "Like I said before; I've known Mike my entire life. If I gave him my real keys first, he'd demand the decoy. Had to make it look realistic."

"You're pretty good, Princess." Dean smiled.

"Oh, I'm a princess now? Fine. I hereby use my newly appointed powers to have you beheaded for making fun of me." Bo countered with a sip of her beer.

Sam laughed, wholeheartedly. "I like her."

"But Bo, in all seriousness, you're drunk. Let us drive you home. Where do you live? We can work on the case in the morning." Dean said.

"Luckily, I live next door to you boys. Icy Chief Inn, room 201."

"Great. Let's get you into bed, so you can sleep this off."

*****

Sam tucked her into bed, only taking her shoes off before leaving a glass of water and two aspirin on her nightstand. He scrawled a note on the motel's stationary.

Bo-  
You were drunk last night, we took you back here. You fell asleep in the car. When you wake up, come over to our room. We'll talk about the case.  
-Sam

*****

Bo awoke with a start, her bad dream leaving her in a cold sweat. She looked to her left, saw the glass of water, and gratefully gulped it down. It was only then when her head began to pound. She grimaced, dry swallowed the aspirin, and read the note.

Her watch read 7:45. She shrugged inwardly, threw on her shoes, and knocked on the Winchester's door. She was greeted almost instantly by a sweaty, shirtless Sam.

"Don't knock so loud!" he whispered. "Dean's still asleep."

"Uh, sorry." Bo was face-to-face with the most chiseled pair of pectoral muscles she had ever seen. And she couldn't take her eyes off of them, getting lost in the thought of running her tongue along them; tracing the outline of the anti-possession tattoo with the tip of her tongue... She shook her head, as if to clear out the impure thoughts.

"Thanks for, bringing me back last night. And like, not taking advantage of me and stuff. Yeah. That was... Good. Yeah." She reached up to pat him on the shoulder, angling her body to make it through the doorway. "You finish your, uh, workout regime, and I'll make breakfast. Yeah?"

"I'm actually about done. What are you making? I don't think we have any food here." Sam replied.

"Pancakes. Eggs. Bacon. Maybe a pie if I have time."

"Can I help at all?"

"Throw a shirt on, Sasquatch; we'll see if you can follow directions."

*****

"All right, now add three teaspoons of vanilla extract and a couple sprinkles of cinnamon." Bo instructed. "Good. That's good. SAM! That's enough cinnamon. Chill out."

"Sorry. I'm not much of a chef." Sam looked down, and he reminded Bo of a lost puppy, cast out of his home by his owner.

"Hey, no prob, Sam-squatch." She reached up and ruffled his hair. "Think you can cook these, while I get started on the bacon and eggs?"

"I got this."

"Atta boy!"

While Sam worked the tedious job of flipping pancakes, Bo chopped mushrooms, whipped the eggs into a flurry, and added milk, cream cheese, sour cream, salt, pepper, cheddar and mozzarella cheese to the mixture. On the four-burner stove, Bo and Sam were close together, and they only got closer when Bo added the bacon to the second burner.

Sam was a flapjack machine, baking perfect spheres in record time. The pair cooked with a sense of camaraderie, occasionally sharing jokes and anecdotes. Their laughter eventually got louder, and that, coupled with the delicious smells, brought Dean out of his slumber.

"Sammy?" He asked in his deep timbre, low from sleep. "Bo?"

Bo whipped around, her dark ponytail whipping Sam in the back. Dean nearly chuckled when he noticed the small red jam stain on her cheek. "You making me pie again, sweetheart?" he asked.

Bo scoffed. "Put some clothes on. Pie needs to bake, it should be done by the time we finish breakfast."

"Wha--"

"Cherry."

Dean clicked his tongue. "You get me, princess. You sure do get me"


End file.
